He took her hand, and guided it along the side, and she felt it. It had a small, metal indent. In the shape of a cross.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I do know one thing: it doesn’t belong on this piece of furniture. And I suspect something else: this unusual shape, the curved lines: I would bet anything that is the exact shape of your cross.”
She looked at him blankly, not comprehending what he was talking about. Then she suddenly realized and reached down. Her necklace.
“I think it’s a key,” he said.
She took it off quickly, and together, her hand on his, they inserted it gently into the indent. She was ecstatic to see that it fit perfectly. It entered with a soft click, and as they gently turned it to the right, a narrow, vertical compartment opened.
Heart pounding, Caitlin reached inside and gently extracted a frail scroll, yellowing, brittle. It was tied with an ancient piece of string, all but crumbling.
She handed it to Caleb, and the two of them unrolled the scroll together.
It was a map. Handwritten, hundreds of years old.
At the top of the map, in a handwritten scrawl, it read: Elizabeth’s cottage.
He looked up at her.
“Her cottage,” he said, breathlessly. “It’s a map to where she lived.”
She stared at it, in awe.
“Whoever stored it here wanted you to be the one to find it. Your necklace was the key. And it’s never been opened until now. He wanted you to find this map, to find her cottage. Wherever it is, there will be something in it for you.”
It was meant for her. For Caitlin, and Caitlin alone. The thought of it overwhelmed her. Made her feel, for the first time in her life, wanted. Loved. Important. That she had a connection to something greater than herself, something hundreds of years old. That she was the center of this entire puzzle. She could hardly contain her emotions.
Then, suddenly, it happened. A horrible pain gripped her stomach. It knocked the wind out of her, and she keeled over, gasping for breath.
“Are you all right?” Caleb asked, as she felt his hand on her shoulder.
The feeding pangs. They were back. They hurt so badly this time, she could barely breathe.
Another pang suddenly struck, and this one hurt so much, she stood up with a jolt. She heard herself growl, a horrible, unearthly sound, and she saw herself running across the room, trying to get the pain out of her body. She ran right into a big exhibit, knocking it over, and heard it shatter.
But she couldn’t control herself. She was spinning, out of control, and she was going to destroy everything in this room.
Caleb appeared beside her, grabbing her firmly.
“Caitlin,” he said firmly, “Caitlin, listen to me!”
He grabbed her by the shoulders with all his might, but he was barely able to contain her.
“You are going to be all right. It’s just the feeding pangs. Do you hear me? It’s going to be all right. You just need to feed. We need to get you out of here,” he enunciated slowly. “Now!”
Caitlin looked up, and in her haze, barely saw him. On one level, she heard him, but on the other, it hurt too badly. It was overwhelming her. A desire to feed. To destroy. To get her fill. Now.
Caleb must’ve seen whatever it was overcoming her, because, before she could react, he quickly and firmly took her arm, and let her down the staircase, and out the house.
It was nearly dark as they hurried out the front door of Hawthorne’s house and down the walkway. They were moving so fast, they didn’t even look up, and didn’t even realize that they were walking right into a huge trap.
“Freeze!” yelled a voice.
Standing before them, guns drawn, stood several Salem policemen.
“Hands in the air! Slowly!”
Caitlin was still in a haze. The pangs struck her sharply, and she couldn’t resist the waves of rage, of violence, that were overcoming her. It was hard to focus, to hear exactly what they were saying. She saw the police, but she had no fear of them. On the contrary, she wanted to pounce.
Through her haze, she felt Caleb’s strong grip, clasping her shoulders, and it was the only thing that kept her in check.
“I said, hands in the air!” screamed a cop, as the two other officers came in closer.
“Calm, Caitlin, calm,” Caleb whispered, as he slowly, still clutching the scroll, raised his arms high in the air, and prodded her to follow. “They can’t harm us.”
Caitlin, though, felt anything but calm. She saw the police, saw them pointing a gun at Caleb, and felt a red hot rage. A pang struck again, and she could no longer control herself as she zoomed in on a policemen, on his throat, the blood coursing through it. She needed it.
Caitlin pounced. She leapt right for the center policemen, and before he could react, she was on him, clutching him, her head back, teeth protracted, sinking right for his neck.
And then: a gunshot.
ELEVEN
The clock struck midnight as Kyle descended down the marble staircase, flanked by two dozen of his minions. It had been a long night, and it had done gone far better than he had ever dreamed. Still, he dreaded greeting his master, Rexius, their coven leader. They had been together for thousands of years, and he knew that Rexius was not a man who suffered fools lightly. He had zero tolerance for mistakes, and Kyle had felt nervous ever since he’d let that girl, Caitlin, escape his grasp. Rexius always punished even the smallest transgression, and Kyle had been bracing himself, wondering when his punishment would come. He knew that Rexius was just biding his time, that he would never forget.
Still, Kyle’s work had gone so spectacularly tonight, in every corner of the city, that Kyle couldn’t imagine how his master could remain upset with him. It should more than make up for such a small mistake. After all, they were in the midst of a historic moment in time, and Kyle was the general of this war. How could his master possibly punish him now?
Indeed, the more Kyle thought about it, the more he looked forward to this meeting. He looked forward to reporting the strength of the plague, how fast it was spreading, how well he and his men had distributed it. He looked forward to Rexius’ approval, to his shared excitement that the war they had been waiting for for thousands of years was finally here.
As Kyle continued deep underground, deep under City Hall, down another marble corridor, and through a huge set of medieval doors, he felt intoxicated. He had been waiting for this day for years. He loved the feeling of the huge entourage behind him, of the war that was about to come. He hadn’t felt this giddy since he’d witnessed the beheadings of the French Revolution.
As Kyle entered his master’s chamber and walked through the set of double doors, several senior vampires stepped up behind him and blocked his entourage from following. They closed the door with a bang, leaving Kyle alone in the room. Kyle wasn’t thrilled about this. But then again, when dealing with Rexius, you never had a choice. And you never knew what he would do next.
It was a huge, cavernous room, and as Kyle looked about, he was surprised to see hundreds of vampires lined up silently along the wall. Their numbers had already grown dramatically, and there were many vampires Kyle didn’t recognize.
These vampires stood silently, at attention, along the sides of the room, practically out of sight. Only the leader dominated the room. Rexius. He sat in the center, as always, on his huge marble throne, and stared down at Kyle. That was the way the leader always wanted it.
Kyle step forward and bowed his head.
“My master,” Kyle said.
A heavy silence blanketed the room.
Kyle looked up.
“You will be pleased to know, my master, that our work has gone beautifully. The plague has spread through every corner of the city. Within days, the humans will all be at their knees.”
Several seconds of uncomfortable silence followed, as Kyle could feel his master glaring down at him. Those icy blue eyes—they alway
s made his skin crawl.
Kyle finally looked down, bowing his head again. He couldn’t stand looking up anymore.
“You have done well, Kyle,” the leader said slowly, in a dark, deliberate, gravelly voice. “Other covens are already reporting in. Our numbers grow stronger as we speak.”
“The war is going to be magnificent, master,” Kyle said. “I am honored to lead it for you.”
Several more seconds of silence followed.
“Indeed,” Rexius finally said, “this war will be magnificent. Within days, New York will be ours, and within weeks, the human race will be enslaved.”
Rexius broke into a smile, licking his lips ever so slightly. Kyle dreaded when he did that. A smile from Rexius only meant one thing: bad news.
“I am sorry to report,” Rexius continued, “that you won’t be here to share it with us.”
Kyle felt a pain his chest, and looked up in fear. He didn’t know what to say. Where would he be? Was he assigning him elsewhere?
“Not here?” Kyle asked, dumfounded. He could hear his own voice cracking, and felt ashamed. “My master, I am afraid I do not understand. I have already executed everything perfectly.”
“I know you have. That is the only reason you are still breathing right now,” he said.
Kyle swallowed hard.
“There remain your past mistakes to be accounted for. I never forget, Kyle.”
Kyle swallowed again, and he felt his throat go dry. This was what he had been dreading.
“You let that half-breed escape. She may lead someone else to the sword. If so, our war will be compromised.” He learned forward, so Kyle could see the full effect of his icy blue eyes. “Severely compromised.”
Kyle knew better than to try to defend himself. That would only make matters worse. So instead, he just knelt there, waiting, trembling in rage, in fear. He had been tricked. He had waged their war perfectly, and now he would be punished for it.
Several seconds of silence followed, as Kyle wondered what his future would hold.
“Kyle of the Blacktide Coven, you have failed in your duties, and broken our holy covenant. I hereby sentence you to partial emergence in Ioric Acid, followed by banishment from our coven forever. You are no longer among us. You will live, but it will be a lonely life, and we will no longer recognize your name. You are an outcast. Forever.”
Kyle’s eyes opened wide in fear and astonishment, as dozens of minions suddenly appeared and grabbed his arms, dragging him away. It was too extreme, this punishment. It was unfair.
“But my master, you can’t do this. I have been your greatest soldier—for centuries!”
Kyle struggled, as more and more arms grabbed him, dragging him backwards.
“I can find her!” he screamed, while being dragged. “I can bring her back! I and I alone! I know how to find her. You must give me this chance!”
“You have had too many chances already,” the leader said, with an icy smile. “I will find her myself. I have other soldiers in my army.”
It was the final thing Kyle heard as he was dragged out of the chamber, out through the double doors.
“My master!” Kyle started to scream, but before he could finish, the doors had slammed in his face.
Kyle felt the arms on him, all over him, and before he knew it, he was on his back, flat on a slab of stone.
More and more vampires pinned him down, hovering over him. It was a frenzy of vengeance. He thought of his thousands of years, of all the vendettas he had accumulated. He had stepped on a lot of toes to get where he was. Now it was time for payback.
One of them, sneering down at him, stepped forward with a bucket, and Kyle could smell the awful stench of the Ioric Acid before he even saw it.
“NO!” Kyle screamed. He had seen others suffer from it, and he could already guess the horrible pain that awaited.
As he looked up, the last thing he saw was the bucket tilting, then the liquid beginning to pour, right for his face.
And then the halls filled with the sound of his shrieking.
TWELVE
As Caitlin flew with Caleb in the cold air, gripping him tightly, her hunger pangs started to dissipate, and her head finally started to clear. She looked down and saw the blood all over Caleb, all over both of them, and tried to remember what had happened.
She remembered leaving Hawthorne’s house. Then the police, then losing control. Then there was a gunshot. Yes, now she remembered. As she had aimed her teeth for the officer’s neck, she had suddenly been pulled off him by Caleb. With lightning speed, he had yanked her off, had spared her from attacking another human.
But he had suffered for it. That cop had fired, and had hit Caleb in the arm. His blood had been all over both of them, but it never seemed to slow him down. Instead, he somehow managed to knock out all three policemen before they could react, to pick her up in the same motion, and to take off into the air. She marveled at his sense of control, in every situation. He had managed to get them out of there without seriously hurting anyone but himself. She felt embarrassed that she was not as evolved, not as in control, as he, and felt badly that she had once again put him in harm’s way.
It was dark as Caitlin and Caleb flew over the woods, on the outskirts of Salem. As they flew in the cold, night air, she slowly felt herself calming. Caleb’s strong, icy grip held her in the air, and she felt the tension in her body starting to leave. The hunger faded. So did her rage.
By the time they landed in the woods, she felt back to normal. With her head clear, the events of the past hour seem like a wild and crazy blur, and she couldn’t understand why she’d reacted the way she had. Why had she been so filled with rage, so quickly? Why couldn’t she control herself?
Of course, she knew the answer was not intellectual: when the pangs struck her, she was simply out of control. A different person, at the mercy of her animal instincts. Thank God for Caleb. She wouldn’t have wanted that policeman’s blood on her head. She was so grateful that he had rescued her before she could do anything rash.
As she saw the blood dripping down his arm, she again felt guilty. He was shot because of her.
She reached over and put her hand on his arm.
He looked down.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Are you going to be okay?”
“It will be fine,” he said. “Vampires are not like humans: our skin heals quickly. Within a few hours, it will be completely healed. It was just a regular bullet. If it had been silver, then that would have been very different. But it wasn’t. So please don’t worry,” he said gently.
As she looked at his arm, she saw that it was already healing fast. It was amazing. It hardly looked like more than a large black and blue mark. It was as if it were healing before her eyes.
She wondered if she had a similar power. Then again, being only a half-breed, she probably didn’t. Like most vampire powers, it was probably reserved only for true, full-bred vampires. A part of her wished that she was one. Immortality. Superpower. Immunity to most weapons. She had some of those traits, but clearly not all. She was stuck between two worlds, and she didn’t know which one to choose.
Not that she was being given much of a choice anyway. The only way to become a true, full vampire would be to be turned by one. And Caleb wasn’t offering. That was forbidden. And even if it wasn’t, she had a feeling he wouldn’t offer anyway. He seemed to be oppressed by being immortal, and he seemed to envy her her mortality. She didn’t get the feeling that he’d want her to be what he was. For her own sake.
“Do you still have it?” he asked.
She looked over, not understanding.
“The map,” he added.
Of course. The reason why they had landed here.
She reached into her pocket, and was relieved to discover it was still there. Thank God for zippered pockets.
She handed it to him.
He unrolled it and stared.
“We are not far,” he said, lowering it and looking at the
woods before them. “The cottage should be close.”
Caitlin looked all around her, squinting in the darkness. All she saw were trees.
“I don’t see anything,” she said.
“It’s an old map,” he said. “It was drawn by hand, and is very rough. I’m sure it is not exact. But the markings indicate this area.”
Caleb looked around again, and she did, too. But neither of them saw anything.
“This cottage,” Caitlin said, “was here hundreds of years ago. Isn’t it possible that it’s been destroyed?”
Caleb scrutinized the woods. He headed in a particular direction, and she walked with him, leaves rustling.
“Yes,” he said, “that is possible. Especially if it was built of wood. Then it is most likely. But I am hoping it was built of stone. Most vampire cottages were. Then it could still stand. Or at least a portion of it.”
“But even if so, don’t you think that by now it would have been discovered, or vandalized?” she asked.
“Possibly. Unless…”
She waited. “Unless?”
“Unless it has become overgrown. There is a tradition among vampires, a way to pass a clue on to generations. We build a stone cottage, and then plant wisteria, thorns, layers of thickets closely around it. If left alone, it grows wildly, quickly, so thick and deep, that over time, if it were a remote place, it stays untouched and is virtually impossible for a layperson to see. This way, centuries later, the initiated could still find it.”
He looked around.
“The one advantage we have here is that this forest is remote. That gives me hope.”
“Assuming that was a real map,” Caitlin said, playing devil’s advocate. “Maybe it was planted by someone. Maybe it’s a false lead.”
Caleb looked at her and smiled.
“You have a very sophisticated mind,” he said. “Perhaps you are over thinking this. Yes, that is possible. But I doubt it. That scroll was genuine.”
He took her hand as they walked deeper into the forest, the only sound, that of leaves rustling. She could feel the cold sinking into her bones.
Loved (Book #2 in the Vampire Journals) Page 7
